Hobbs gets a Hand
by soul1essharpy
Summary: Rated: M Summary: Chris reflecting on his thoughts in 1.4 during the infamous athletic room jerk-off scene with Justin. Author's Note: Apologies now for suckage factor, old story recently found and edited, but it got away from me at the end...again.


**Author:** SOUL1essHarpy

**Characters:** Chris H. & Justin T.

**Rating:** M

**Story: Complete**

**Summary:** Chris reflecting on his thoughts in 1.4 during the infamous athletic room jerk-off scene with Justin.

**Author's Note:** Apologies now for suckage factor, old story recently found and edited, but it got away from me at the end...again.

* * *

><p>I'm laying in bed in my room while my brain drifts over everything that happened today. It's been a long and bizarre (yet fucking fantastic) day, also one of the most confusing days of my life, in fact. You see, I got a hand-job today. That's not such a bad thing you say? Well, in my case, it was. This one was like none other (not that I've gotten that many, mind you) due to it was courtesy of one Justin Taylor. Yes, a <em><strong>guy<strong>_ jerked me off...and I loved it. Do you see my problem, now? I thought you might.

It all started when I was goofing off in English class and stupid asshole Horner decided to give me detention. I tell him that I've got football practice, but he just tells me "Not today. Today you'll be cleaning out the athletic room." _**Fucker**_**.** The rest of the day went by so slowly until finally the bell rang. I had just finished putting my stuff in my locker, ready to go to practice as usual, forgetting all about detention, when Horner reminds me. "Shouldn't you be headed to detention now, Mr. Hobbs?" I plaster a fake smile on, gritting my teeth, reply "Yes, sir." He turns his back to go and I flip the bird to his retreating back. (I'm a chicken-shit, I know.)

I get to the athletic room and realise I _**really**_ hate Horner. The room looks like it hasn't been cleaned in years. I'm supposed to do it in one afternoon? By myself? I suddenly hear a voice behind me ask, "You need some help?" I reply with something like 'This sucks' as he kinda surprised me by offering. We weren't exactly friends. He tells me they need me at practice, which surprises me again, because honestly, he doesn't seem like he's all that into sports of any kind. Drawing was more his thing, I knew because I'd see him drawing in class all the time, sometimes felt him looking at me while he did. Like I did this morning in English class.

Taylor helped me clean up almost everything and we got it done pretty quickly. I sat down by the equipment cage to rest. He said he was going to get a soda. When he asked if I wanted one, too, I said yes. "Only one left." he called out as he re-entered the room. "Here, you take it." he said. I heard myself answer before I even had time to think, "We'll share it." He tossed me the can and I cracked it open, fizzy foam running over my hand. I felt my dick twitch at the sudden image of come traveling the same path. I take a drink and pass the can to him, his fingers brushing the back of my hand as he took it. My skin was hot and buzzing with electricity where his fingers had brushed against it, my pants suddenly a lot more constricting.

What the hell is going on here? I have gotten turned-on by plenty of girls before, but never have I felt quite like this. He sits next to me and my stomach sort of flips. Get it together, Hobbs. I start telling him about who are the sluttiest girls at St. James. I tell him about Suzanne Shepley and how she'll blow anyone but will only fuck you if you go to another school, not ours. Suzanne apparently prefers the Catholic school boys for a fuck partner for some reason, she's weird. She's a whore, so I guess she knows what she's talking about, though.

Then I get the bright idea to tell him about Mary Frances Cottallutto. That was the beginning of the crazy, confusing turn my day was about to take, only I didn't know it at the time. I tell him how she was supposed to be interviewing me for the school paper and how it was conveniently during the two hours before my mom got home. He looks at me in amazement and something else I recognise, but don't let myself think about. I know without a doubt he sees the same look on my face right now. Then, I tell him about how she grabbed my dick when I told her what a touchdown was like...

"She grabs my dick."

"No."

"Oh, yeah. She went for it. Not only that, she unzips my fly."

I close my eyes and get lost in the memory, stroking my dick unconsciously through my pants. I let my legs fall apart and my leg rests against Justin's. I can hear Justin's breathing speed up now, too. I just keep talking and reliving the memory.

"She's got my dick. She's got all these rings on, they're cold, and her hand's warm. She's rubbing..."

My voice drops to a barely audible whisper as I continue to stroke myself, lost in the moment, barely aware that I'm not alone. I say barely aware because even with my eyes closed I can feel his heat and his eyes boring into me as he watches me stroking myself beside him.

"...and rubbing..." I'm openly panting now, "...oh. yeah." I hear his soft sigh.I keep talking and rubbing. "...And then she's gotta go home..." "you know... And I'm there... And I'm..."

"..._You're hard."_ his voice is thick and low, almost a whisper.

I can't think to say anything, all I can do is feel. What I feel right now is so goddamn hard that I want to scream. I need release, to stroke my dick until I come, fast and hard. I know I shouldn't be thinking this, it's wrong and disgusting, sick, a sin even, but what I really want, no need, right now is for Justin to touch me. He's fucking beautiful, those bright eyes, the full lips, that perfect ass. I want to feel his...'Oh, god... Is he really cupping my dick right now? Is this really fucking happening?' My mind goes crazy along with my body at his touch. I won't stop him, not now. I _**can't**_ stop him. I _**need**_ him. Need him to _**touch**_ me, _**stroke**_ me, _**free**_ me.

I feel the loss of warmth as he removes his hand and begin to panic. I need him to do this to make me come, stop the ache. I feel him turn towards me as he unzips my fly. 'Fuck, that is the most beautiful sound in the world!' Searing heat envelops my dick, expert strokes from the start, strokes I know that will end up getting me off quicker than I ever have before. I have had more than a few hands wrapped around my dick in the past, but never like this. Tentative efforts, mostly. Unsteady and shy, too. Some more skilled hands as well, but never hands this adept at giving pure pleasure. I don't want this to ever stop, it feels fucking amazing! Taylor definitely knew what he was doing, way more so than any of the girls our age... even the sluts.

The warm huffs of Justin's aroused breaths on my face only spur me on, make me even harder. Not that I even think that's remotely possible at this point! Knowledgeable, practised strokes up and down my shaft, swirling and circling. His grip tightens over the head, over and over again. My back arches in response, my breaths quick and shallow. I can hear his pants and soft breaths in my ear, almost completely drowned out by my own as I'm rushed to the brink. Two more confident, powerful strokes and I come. Hard, fast and more than I ever have before. I have never had an orgasm like this before, my whole body a network of over-stimulated nerves, but yet totally relaxed. The slightest touch, however and I'm sure I'll pass out.

There's no warning and almost no time to tuck it in and zip it up before Horner wanders in to lecture that I should be working. I jump to my feet and tell him that I am and during this, Justin quietly exits the room. Realisation of what I just let happen hit me full-force. **Fuck**! I can't believe that I let this happen. **Shit**! How could I have been so stupid? Letting some fag jerk me off? He'd better not fucking say anything to anyone about this or I will be dead... but not before I kill him. What was I thinking? Obviously, what I was thinking _**with**_ is more the issue. I let my dick rule my actions, blindly succumbing to what it wanted and not my brain. No, he obviously tricked me somehow, that's it. Forgotten were the lessons I had been taught my entire life... that fags were sick and depraved and were all going to burn in hell. What I don't understand is: How can something that feels so good... be considered wrong?

So that was my day and it appears I'll be dealing with the after-effects of this day for a long time, starting with the swirling mass of questions it brought up, all of which I will deny to myself, of course. **No**, it does not make me gay. **No**, no one will _**ever**_ find out about this. **No**, it was not my fault, he made me. **No**, I am not in love with Taylor. That's the biggest lie of all, considering the fact that as I was laying here, remembering earlier today, I was jerking off... pretending it was Justin. This is all _**his**_ fault! He's gonna _**pay**_ for this.

SOUL1essHarpy


End file.
